


Prime Priorities

by Kemmasandi



Series: The Pits [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, Other, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemmasandi/pseuds/Kemmasandi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jazz makes sure his Prime gets home safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prime Priorities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [microraptoria](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=microraptoria).



> **microraptoria** asked: _Jazz/Orion -- War never happened AU_
> 
> Maybe this fits into that verse with the Megs/Ratchet, hm?
> 
> With the fall of the old Senate, Jazz quits working for the Hall of Records [although it’s never officially recorded, something about having a cover occupation for then people get curious] and becomes the eyes and ears of the Primacy. Orion is a little dubious about it at first - he’d like to think he wouldn’t need it - but after the first half-dozen attempted assassinations/attempts by cities where the Towers still rule to secede from the united Cybertronian state/protest plots and what-have you he admits that he needs it after all.

Orion was falling asleep on his pedes by the time the gathering (Jazz couldn't really call it a  _party_ ; that in his humble opinion required a sense of life that this sad group of mecha just didn't have) wound down enough to allow the Prime to retire without causing unnecessary insult. He'd been working all orn with the team drafting an amendment that would strip the Public Interest Registration Act of most of its teeth - Magnus, predictably, had had fun, but Orion wasn't built for such dry stuff.

Jazz escorted him up through the building, bouncing ahead to open doors and call down elevators. In his current state he couldn't be sure that the mech he still wasn't used to calling 'Prime' wouldn't simply walk straight into them. Perhaps if they were alone - but naah, not in public. Orion needed to retain the best public image he possibly could if he were to make something out of the rapidly-collapsing order. As it was, the hope that maybe this new Prime would spell better times was all that was keeping some places spinning. Jazz should know; he'd had his sticky paws in most of them for a while now.

The Primal Suite was a massive set of rooms occupying the top two floors of the Crystal Iris Tower, the centerpiece of the Iaconian Senate complex. Orion didn't particularly like it - too lonely, he said. When one stood at the windows, the choices were limited to up at the stars, out at the horizon or down at the roofs of Iacon far, far below.

Jazz could definitely see what he meant.

The lights flickered on as they entered, the Suite's systems powering smoothly up. Jazz pulled open the control panel and shut the automatic programs down before they could do much more than open the window shutters and fill half a cube of rich dark energon. He made another mental note to disable those functions entirely, and wondered darkly if the Suite's designer had actually intended for it to make its inhabitants lazy.

Meanwhile, Orion had found his way to the backless couch beside the window. He sat down with a groan, the faint glimmer of his optics reflecting off the glass as he leaned back and looked out at the night sky. Jazz dispensed two cubes of energon - actual midgrade stuff rather than the overprocessed junk the dispenser seemed to like best - and took them both over to Orion.

The Prime drank the first like a starving mech. He tried to pass the second back to Jazz, croaking that he'd had enough energon that evening, but Jazz wasn't having any of it. 

“That was junk, mech, an’ you know it,” he said, lacing his servos together behind his back and sitting down beside his much bigger friend. “Go on, y’need ta get down something that’s actually got a bit a’ nutritional value, else ya’ll wake up in th’ mornin’ with the brain module tryna crawl out through your optics and no energy to get up and do something about it.”

“I wasn’t the only one having to drink that ‘junk’,” Orion argued, squinting at Jazz. He always got tricksy when he was overcharged, although in this case Jazz was surprised he had the mental energy to get it out past the exhaustion wracking every line of his frame and field.

“Yeah, but unlike you I ain’t been working all day,” he said. He gave Orion a playful shove to illustrate, and the big mech went over sideways with a mournful clatter. “Whoops. Ya’re worse off than I thought.”

Orion’s optics glimmered. Jazz had just enough time to draw in an admiring vent before big arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him down on top of the Prime.

“Glitch,” he chuckled, patting Orion’s windshield. “Ya spilled your drink.”

“Cleaner drone’ll get it,” Orion mumbled, holding him tight. “Stay with me?”

Jazz pulled himself up Orion’s frame and kissed him. “’Course I will.”

Orion smiled. He was asleep within seconds. 


End file.
